


Checks & Balances

by GreenyLove



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen needs help, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, and gets more than he bargained for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove
Summary: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	Checks & Balances

Cullen Stanton Rutherford stared blankly at the three people across the table. Surely, he had misheard them.

“A…assistant?” he repeated, deadpan.

Josephine coughed politely. “The more official term is clerk.”

“You want me to hire a _clerk?”_

The Inquisitor snorted. “You don’t have to hire one personally. Josephine’s staff will conduct interviews, and furnish a wage, uniform, the like. But you need someone to help you, Rutherford.”

“Inquisitor—!”

“Maxwell.”

The Commander sighed. It was true, that he had not been formally trained to manage a standing army. His years as Knight-Captain had not prepared him for the scope of his current position, though the months after Meredith’s demise had seen him doing the job of three men just to keep the Gallows from descending into formless chaos. Hawke had done what he could but Hawke was—still is—a wanted man. Mostly it had been Cullen, with the few he could trust, putting out literal fires, shoulder to shoulder with the remnants of the city guard.

“ _Trevelyan,_ have I performed unsatisfactorily?”

The nobleman across from him choked on his water, slamming the flagon onto the war table, coughing vigorously. Josephine seemed equally distressed by his question, fixing him with a pleading look. “Surely you cannot believe that! You are the hardest working person in this entire organization, and you have the least amount of assistance! I have my staff, Leliana, her agents, His Worship—!”

“Maxwell!”

“—even has a _pair_ of scribes to assist with his correspondences.”

Maxwell nodded empathetically, dabbing away the few tears that had leaked from his eyes. Beside him, Leliana planted her hands on the table and leaned forward. Her eyes flashed and Cullen had the sudden urge to hide behind the drapes.

“Cullen, I know about the tonics.”

Cullen’s neck flushed. The spymaster continued. “You asked the alchemist to provide you with a tonic to prevent drowsiness. He says you’ve come back for refills every eight days since we’ve arrived. You have been working through the night, Commander.”

Curse her and her watchful eyes.

“I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry,” he said, voice low.

Recovered from his fit, Maxwell stepped around the ambassador and clasped Cullen firmly on the shoulder. “I’m not requesting this to insult you. You have taken a militia of volunteers and pilgrims from every profession imaginable and trained remarkable soldiers. But this…war will not get easier.”

Shadows fell across the Inquisitor’s face. He massaged his hand thoughtfully. “Our reach will expand, but so will that of our enemy. I need my army at peak performance, and that starts with getting its Commander to stop drugging himself through all-nighters.”

Cullen exhales slowly, a fraction of rigidness draining out of his posture. Maker’s breath, but he was exhausted.

“I...cannot disagree with you. I should welcome whatever assistance is available,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Maxwell grinned. “Splendid. Josephine, see to those interviews immediately. Cullen, lay off the tonics. We should fill the position within five days. Now, Sister Nightingale, I believe you received word from your scouts in the Frostbacks…”

As the Inquisitor turned to regard the map at his spymaster’s request, Cullen tried to set aside the matter of his _clerk_. It would do him no good to worry. Perhaps it would even be…pleasant, to have another set of eyes and hands keeping track of things, especially with the headaches getting worse….

Hot pain flared in his knuckle, another side effect of his withdrawal. Swelling and stiffness in a vicious cycle aggravated further by the snow and the wind. He thought bleakly of his lyrium kit, of his agreement with Cassandra. _A clerk will come in handy when they finally replace you_.

Something within him steeled. He was fighting this. He could keep fighting this.

_Five days._

The Commander sighed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
